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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818506">Whiskey in the Jar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borderlinemediocre/pseuds/Borderlinemediocre'>Borderlinemediocre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Pining, jaro has Thoughts, our goalies go on a sushi date</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:55:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borderlinemediocre/pseuds/Borderlinemediocre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For my lovely Tuukka/Jaro anon ❤️</p><p>Title from Metallica, because Tuukka.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaroslav Halak/Tuukka Rask</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Whiskey in the Jar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s alright, it happens.” Tuukka’s not very good at this kind of thing, but he feels the need to comfort his </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">goalie partner</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"><em>-</em> Chara outlawed the use of the term ‘backup goalie’ in the locker room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaro nods, still in all his gear. He takes these losses hard, even on a night like this when he’s played back to back games, both on the road. Tuukka’s still laid up, and he does feel a little bad about having to miss these games.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Know how many nights I’ve had like this? It’s not your fault, we’re a team you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just- I </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">had</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> that last one. I had it and if I held on for us we might have had a chance.” He rolls his eyes at himself, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rask thinks for a bit, knows that when he gets like this there’s nothing anyone can really say that will help. What does help, though, is distractions.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna grab some dinner?” Tuukka’s eyes are trained on his shoes; he’s really not used to being like this- being </span>
  <span class="s2">thoughtful</span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Halak looks over at him, Tuukka can tell from the noises of his pads shifting. He doesn’t look back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just, after you change and all that. Don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, that would be good. Thanks.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—————</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you still doin’ here?” Pasta comes out of the showers, still mostly dripping wet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Waiting for Halak.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the younger man so he continues. “We’re going to dinner.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are? Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rask sighs. He’s used up a lot of his social-mental energy on Jaro already. “He’s feeling really bad about the loss.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pasta looks shocked, but Tuukka just stares at him with his signature ‘my eyebrows are raised so get the hell away from me’ look, and Pasta obliges.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t have to do this, I know you need to rest.” Jaro’s out of the showers and dressed, voice still dampened by the loss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What I need is my goalie feeling good.” Tuukka puts a hand on Jaro’s shoulder and it feels strange, but not awful. They make brief eye contact and head out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll drive.” Rask dangles his keys in his hand and they both get into his car. It’s weird, Jaro thinks, to be spending his free time with Tuuks. He looks over at the taller man and in the dim light of the parking garage he looks- good? Lanky in his suit like always, but Jaro’s noticing his long fingers gripping the steering wheel, turning the radio on. It connects to his phone and Metallica is already playing- </span>
  <span class="s2">obviously</span>
  <span class="s1">. Jaro smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They end up at some fancy-but-not-too-fancy place that Tuukka swears has the best sushi in Boston. It’s dark and cozy, and Jaro’s relaxing already.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their chat begins with normal goalie fodder- pads, stretches- but after a couple drinks Jaro steers the conversation elsewhere.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You been to see Metallica?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tuukka smiles wide. “Yeah, lots of times. It’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are the concerts like?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Loud, obviously. But there’s just an energy in the crowd that feeds off the band and vice-versa. You forget everything else, it’s actually relaxing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaro smiles; he’s never seen Tuukka so excited to talk about something and it’s kind of adorable. He wants more of this. “Any other bands you like?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I saw this band Ghost open for them once, they were cool. Also saw Iron Maiden a few times, and Mastadon. Anything super heavy, I like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They keep eating, both matching each other in shots. They both hold their liquor pretty well but it’s starting to soften their edges, making them giggle a little and open up more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tuukka spills half of his drink and it cracks Halak up. “Hey, come on. I wouldn’t laugh at you like that.” He’s patting his napkin on his lap, where most of the drink conveniently landed. Jaro keeps laughing anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have a nice laugh, you know. Even if it’s at my expense.” Tuukka doesn’t look up from his mess so he doesn’t see the blush that spreads across his teammate’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, thanks.” Jaro’s a little uncomfortable in his chair all of the sudden, eyes fixed on Tuukka’s hands. “I uh, I like your suit.” He’s instantly regretting giving such a lame compliment. He also likes Tuukka’s eyes, his cheekbones, his hands. But he wouldn’t say any of that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tuukka finally looks up, notices the still-present blush and nervousness. He smiles. “Want more to drink? There’s a bar downstairs. My treat.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Halak nods, so Tuukka puts a couple hundred on the table before they head down. And it shouldn’t be so hot, really. Jaro has money too. But something about his goalie in a tight suit and expensive watch putting large bills on the table, it just gets to him. He takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sit close at the bar, masses of people around them drowning out any possible conversation. Rask actually </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">texts</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> Jaro.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Too loud, wanna go back to mine?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He makes his goalie blush again, but he nods too, so they head outside. Jaro’s nervous once they get in the car; if he really thinks about it he’s actually a little scared of Tuukka. He’s taller, probably more confident, but it’s the rage that’s scary. He knows the feeling of frustration after a missed save more than most, but Tuukka’s anger goes beyond that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaro idly thinks that Rask could be a wrathful Finnish elf-king; thorny crown, long legs crossed as he sits on his throne in the forest. When he realizes they’re at Tuukka’s place he makes a mental note to stop watching The Hobbit so much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You alright? I know we’re not the most social people but you haven’t said anything in like 20 minutes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright. Let’s go in.” The larger man pats his goalie’s thigh and it’s quick but warm, pulse-quickening. He feels Tuukka’s hand again when they reach the door, this time on his lower back, guiding him in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rask gets rid of his tie and jacket as soon as they get in, rolls up his sleeves. He grabs a couple beers out of the fridge, instructing Jaro to have a seat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gotta get out of these pants, make yourself at home.” Tuukka’s already down the hallway and Halak is desperately trying to relax. Which is kind of counterproductive, he thinks. Trying to relax? The whole point is no effort.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time he’s done contemplating how relaxing works, Tuukka’s back. He’s changed into a soft-looking band tee and PJ shorts, and Jaro’s mind lands on that word again- adorable. He kind of wishes people could see this side of his goalie; most people only know the extreme, milk crate throwing version. But also, he thinks, it’s nice to get this version to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There you go again with that. You zoning out? Am I that boring?” Tuukka sounds amused, taking a seat next to Jaro.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you’re not boring.” He takes a beer from Tuukka, chugging half of it right away. He can’t remember the last time he’s had so much to drink. “You’re actually- you’re cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">cute</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">?” Tuukka’s incredulous.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaro thinks on it. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re cute. You know when you come up to me after a game and smile and hug me? That’s cute. And this?” He gestures at Tuukka’s outfit, “Cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rask is looking down at his feet again, laughing partly at his goalie’s drunkenness and partly at his compliments. He doesn’t think he’s ever been called cute before, but maybe it’s not the worst thing someone can be called.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You flirting with me?” He asks, still giggling a bit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaro takes another drink of his beer, and Tuukka follows suit. Jaro doesn’t answer but he closes the small gap between them and they kiss. It’s short-lived but it makes them both smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, fuck. Well now we have a problem.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Jaro shrugs, like there couldn’t possibly be a problem.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I really liked kissing you, so we need to keep doing that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t sounds like a problem to me.” </span>
</p>
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